


Just You And Me

by elderscrolls



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, fantasy au ? ig mcga Is fantasy but like.. skyrim type of fantasy, i hope i characterized blitz ok i cant get a good handle on his personality so rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderscrolls/pseuds/elderscrolls
Summary: Life in Alfheim is the same as usual until Hearth meets a merchant named Blitzen.





	Just You And Me

**Author's Note:**

> hi im so tired and wrote this over the course of like 4 hours so id rather die than edit. feel free to point out errors / typos
> 
> this looks short but trust me this was 6 pages on google docs

It was snowing when Hearthstone left his home that day. 

His breath billowed out in front of him, and he shivered, pulling the collar of his jacket up a little higher. His hands, although they were gloved, were shoved in his pockets in a futile attempt to keep warm. He hated wearing gloves, since they made it harder to sign, but what choice did he have? It was that or get frostbite. It wasn’t like many people in his village bothered to learn sign language, anyways. Occasionally, he’d meet a traveling merchant who knew it, but that was about it.

And the merchants were the reason he was outside today, trudging through snowdrifts to reach the main square. His father had sent him out to look for rare things to add the Alderman family’s collection, and apparently hadn’t trusted Inge enough to do it. Or maybe he hoped Hearth would freeze to death while he was out there. One less burden. One less reminder of his dead son.

It wasn’t so bad, though. Hearth liked seeing the merchants - dwarves, humans, other elf subtypes, and more all showed up with unique things from their homelands. Of course, being deaf made buying things a little difficult, but he got by well enough by pointing at things and waving money. At home, his father insisted on him writing things down instead of signing, but luckily, no such restrictions applied anywhere else.

Gods, he wanted to burn that parchment.

He found jealousy ensnaring him as he reached the square, where merchants had set up stalls or blankets and were hawking their wares. These people all only saw the beautiful side of the town - they could leave freely in a day or two, knowing nothing of the ugliness and cruelty that lurked beneath the surface.

Hearth’s eye was caught by one stall in particular - one run by a dwarf, albeit a fairly tall one at 5’5”. He was neatly kept, with a trimmed beard and fashionable clothes that suited his dark skin nicely. Similar clothes hung in the stall, with a sign proclaiming that they were hand-made. A few non-clothing items were there as well, crafts that were more typical of dwarven merchants. He focused on one in particular, a small crystal duck. 

When he picked it up, the dwarf seemed to brighten. “That’s one of my favorite pieces! It…” He talked a bit about how he had made it, and although Hearth told himself he was only staring so he could read his lips, he couldn’t deny that the merchant was  _ really _ cute.

Of course, he didn’t let himself dwell on that thought very long. Putting aside the fact that he was, in his own professional opinion, fundamentally unlovable, there was no way a relationship with a merchant would work out - you’d see them, what? Once a year? Twice, if you were lucky? Or not at all, if they didn’t visit your town that year?

When the dwarf was done talking, he set the duck down to sign,  _ how much? _

The dwarf stared at his hands uncomprehendingly for a few seconds before asking, “oh, are you deaf?” When Hearth nodded, he continued, “I don’t know sign language, sorry, but- hey, how do you know what I’m saying, then?”

Hearth tapped his own lips, the best method he could come up with to indicate lip-reading. The dwarf seemed to understand, though. “That’s cool. I wish I knew sign language, though. I’ve never really had a chance to learn.” He gave Hearth a sheepish smile.

_ I’ll teach you,  _ Hearth was signing before he was thinking.

It took a little bit to actually get the message across, but the dwarf was visibly excited. “That’d be great! We could start after I pack up for the night, if you want.” 

Hearth nodded, and he continued, “my name’s Blitzen, by the way. Blitz, if you prefer.”

Blitz - a fitting name. The name reminded Hearth of fire, and the dwarf himself was like a blazing ball of light.

Hearth had to spell out his name, which was difficult with the less obvious letter signs. “Hearthstone. I like it.” Blitz commented at the end.

Shortly after that, Hearth was paying for the duck and watching as Blitz carefully wrapped it up to ensure its safety. Just as he accepted it and was about to leave, Blitz said, “wait! One more thing.”

Turning to one of the racks extending from the stall, he took a red-and-white scarf. Then he was facing Hearth again, wrapping the clothing item around the pale elf’s neck. His fingers brushed against Hearth’s skin, and Hearth, being gay and more than a little bit touch-starved, shivered at the contact. 

Blitz didn’t seem to notice, though, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “There. You looked cold. And you needed a splash of color in your outfit, anyways.” 

Hearth reached back into his pocket for the money, but Blitz gently grabbed his hand to stop him. “You don’t need to pay. It’s a gift.” Between the touch and the soft, kind smile the dwarf gave him, Hearth was more than a little surprised he hadn’t melted by now.

Gently pulling his hand away, he signed,  _ thank you _ .

“You’re welcome,” Blitz responded, most likely guessing at the meaning. “See you tonight.”

Hearth left the stall, pulling the scarf over his mouth in an attempt to hide his blush.

-

Although Hearth left the stall, he didn’t go home. He wasn’t ready to face his father yet - and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back out of the house to see Blitzen. He did wonder how long he’d have to wait, though. He assumed it’d be towards the end of the day when it would be too cold for anyone to want to keep shopping, but he knew some merchants would pack up earlier or later, depending on how much business they were getting.

First, he checked out some of the other stalls, eventually buying a sword the merchant said had been used to decapitate a famous chimera. Probably bullshit, but it would impress Hearth’s father. He didn’t want to give up the glass duck - the thought of it seemed to choke him, although he wasn’t sure why.

There wasn’t much for Hearth to do after that, so he eventually wandered into the woods - skirting around the well like always. As the sun sank below the horizon, he dug in his coat pocket for his bag of runes, and cast the one for warmth. He let out a soft sigh as the heat sank into him, allowing himself to relax there for a moment before starting the trek back towards town.

The rune had, for the most part, faded by the time he reached the marketplace, but a different kind of warmth filled him when he caught sight of Blitzen. The merchant stood in the center of the plaza, glancing around, his arms wrapped around himself. His face seemed to brighten when he saw Hearth, though, and he waved.

Hearth sped up to meet him. Once he was close enough, Blitz started talking. “I left most of my things at the inn. Are you fine with going there?”

Hearth nodded, and they turned to walk in that direction. The inn was creatively titled ‘Alfheim Inn’, and was rather plain compared to the rest of the town. It made sense, considering most people in Alfheim didn’t really like visitors. They only tolerated merchants because of their infrequency, and because of the pretty trinkets they got in return.

Blitz held the door open for Hearth, gently closing it behind him. The place was pretty packed, a combination of the already small size and the amount of merchants visiting that day. Hearth was led up the stairs - earning a curious glance from one of the elves at the front desk - and into one of the rooms on the left. 

Although it was a temporary residence, Blitz had certainly made himself at home. Most of his wares were scattered around - albeit in a careful sort of way, somehow managing to keep each of them pristine. There was only one bed, pushed into the corner and covered with some of the crafts Hearth had seen earlier.

“Sorry about the mess. Just give me a second,” Blitz stated, before starting to move things off of the bed. Hearth took the opportunity to set down the sword he had bought, propping it against a dresser. Blitz was ready quickly, sitting down on the bed and gesturing to the spot next to him. Hearth sat down, turning to face him.

“So, how do we do this?” Blitz asked.

_ Use paper?  _ Hearth signed. He hated writing, thanks to his father, but it would be more convenient in this case - he could write down what he was signing. When Blitzen didn’t get this, he mimed writing.

“Oh, yeah! I think I have some paper somewhere.” After a bit of rummaging around, Blitz produced a small book. As he flipped through, Hearth leaned over his shoulder, observing sketches of outfits. He tapped one of the pages in curiosity, and Blitz glanced up at him. “I like designing clothes,” he explained. “That’s what I did for all of these.” He gestured at the clothing he had been selling earlier. “Fashion isn’t really a common interest in Nidavellir, so that’s why I became a merchant.”

Hearth nodded, feeling admiration swelling in him. He knew what it was like to be an outcast in your community - and he especially knew the trouble it could cause you.

Finally, Blitz reached a blank page and handed the book to Hearth. 

They started with the alphabet. Blitz picked it up quickly, which led to them moving onto basic phrases - ‘hello’, ‘thank you’, and the like. Eventually, though, Hearth looked out the window and realized with a jolt just how late it was.

“Is something wrong?” Blitzen asked.

_ I should get home. Father will kill me.  _ Hearth had to write down some of it, and Blitz frowned as he gazed at the paper.

“You don’t look like you’re kidding.” He noted.

_ I’m not. _

Blitz had a worried look on his face. “Do you want to sleep here tonight? I don’t want to get you in trouble, but…” He rubbed his arm. “And tomorrow I can talk to your dad? If that’ll help?”

Hearth wasn’t at all sure that that would help, but the idea of having an actual warm bed instead of a mattress on a stone floor was too tempting.  _ If you’re fine with it. Thanks.  _ It hit him a moment later that there was only one bed, so he’d be on the floor, anyways, but it still beat going home.

Hearth started to slide down onto the floor, but Blitzen gave him an odd look. “You can sleep up here, you know. It’ll be a lot more comfortable. And warmer.”

Admittedly, Hearth was trying very hard not to combust as he slid under the covers next to Blitz. At first, he tried to give the dwarf space, but he quickly found out Blitz didn’t give a shit about space, his arms flopped over Hearth and his face buried in the elf’s chest. Hearth felt Blitz mumble something against him, but whatever it was, he didn’t lift his head or hands to elaborate.

Hearth thought it’d be impossible to fall asleep with his nerves on fire like that, but the moment his eyes closed, he felt himself dropping away.

-

For once, Hearth hadn’t had any nightmares. He had, however, managed to become a tangled mess with Blitzen overnight - seeing the man’s peaceful, sleeping face, though, he couldn’t bear to pull away. Having been raised in a house where the only physical contact was hitting, though, he found he had no idea what to do with his hands, or really, any other part of his body. He decided to just stay how he was, and hope Blitz wouldn’t mind.

Eventually, Blitz stirred. The dwarf sat up, stifling a yawn, and Hearth let his arms fall away from where they had been wrapped around him. “Morning. Sleep well?” Blitz asked.

Hearth nodded, covering his own mouth - partially for a yawn and partially to hide the blush he was sure was spreading across his pale skin.

A sinking feeling hit him now that he was more alert, though. He’d have to face his father soon. As if sensing his distress, Blitz rested his hand on Hearth’s. They stayed that way for a few blissful moments, before Hearth got up to find the notebook.  _ Better get it over with. _

Blitz’s expression was pure concern. “Will you be alright?”

Hearth shook his head, running his hand through his hair. This apparently wasn’t the answer that Blitz wanted.

“What will he do?”

_ Hit me, maybe. Definitely take off points.  _ Hearth shrugged, trying to push down the fear boiling up. 

“Points?”

Hearth explained the points system - points taken off for things like eating, disappointing his father, et cetera. Points added for doing things that pleased his father.

Blitz looked positively horrified. “Hearth, that’s awful!”

_ I’m used to it.  _

Blitz surged forward suddenly, grabbing Hearth’s hands. “You don’t have to be. Come with me when I leave. It can be just you and me.”

Hearth stared at him blankly for a moment before slowly signing.  _ What? _

“It’d be perfect!” Blitz insisted. “You can keep teaching me sign language. And you won’t have to see your dad ever again! And I think you’re nice to be around.”

Too many emotions clouded Hearth at once. He could leave? Just like that? He had always dreamed about it, walking away and never coming back, but he’d never had the courage to do it.

Maybe Blitzen was his courage.

_ I’d like that. _

Blitz was hugging Hearth before the elf could react. “I’m glad.” He leaned back, although he kept his arms tightly around Hearth. “We can leave as soon as I get my things packed.”


End file.
